Page 50 of Holding On

“To call off the breakup. I don’t want this to be over, not after tonight. I want to extend our arrangement for at least another month. That’s still shorter than our original agreement—that you fucking signed, Tinsley!” He hits his steering wheel with his palm three times to punctuate his statement and accelerates even more. We have to be going at least twenty miles over the speed limit and I glance back to Fiona, who looks as lost as I am. Fiona places her hand on my shoulder and I reach up to hold it with my left hand. In the rear window, I see Thor’s SUV keeping up with us—barely.

“Don’t look back there. Don’t look at her. You look at me. You talk to me. You do what I want. You don’t tell me what to do—you fucking listen to what I want, and you say, yes, please, Roman when I offer anything to you. The power dynamic between us is fucked and we’re fixing it right now.”

Roman accelerates even more, and Fiona screams in the back seat, gripping my shoulder tightly as he swerves around a car, barely avoiding hitting them. “Whatever you want, Roman, we can make it happen. Just please slow down and take us to the party we’re supposed to be at. The press will be waiting for you.” I am too well-versed in talking down an egomaniac after years of dealing with Rick and his anger.

“That’s more like it, Tinsley. That’s what I want to hear.” He reaches over with his right hand and places it on my thigh, gripping it tightly. “Now, call your lawyer and get it on record.”

Daphne and Pippa would never allow me to enter into another agreement with this creep, but I can’t tell him that. “Fucking call them, Tinsley, right now!” Roman hits the steering wheel as he looks at me.

Fiona screams, “Look out! Roman! Stop! Slow down!” I look through the windshield as the car veers off the main road.

Roman lets go of my thigh as he grabs the steering wheel. “What the hell? I can’t, I⁠—”

Fiona and I both scream, and the last thing I see is the concrete median barrier we are speeding directly into before everything goes completely black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The chirping of my alarm at five a.m. ends my brief sleep, but I want to have time to get some cardio in and shower before Wells and I meet to discuss our negotiations later this morning. Wells recently bought a new place in Kensington, but it’s in shambles in the middle of a renovation, so instead of staying at the estate in inner London, we are staying in a few five-star suites, but I prefer a gated estate if I had the choice.

I mix my morning protein shake as I glance out at the still-dark street. Someone else famous must be staying at this same hotel as the paparazzi vultures are already crowding the street. I understand the media care about the personal lives of celebrities, but in my experience, it’s never enough and they always want more. After my fair share of dating clout chasers in my younger years, I would rather not deal with the press at all, unless it’s something related to Lux. I bet I could look up who they’re stalking, but I don’t really give a shit.

Plus, I’m exhausted.

I stayed up until Tinsley’s performance with Fiona last night at the Grammys was over, but that means I didn’t go to sleep until two a.m. local time. I’ll just have to make sure Jett keeps bringing me caffeine regardless of where we are today so I can function.

I want to be in New York so I can help Tinsley navigate the inevitable fall out today when she “breaks up” with Roman Cash. She told me yesterday that she never wants to be in the same place as him ever again, and I will do my best to make that wish a reality. I make my way to the private gym that’s exclusive to the suites on this floor and get started on my morning run. I’m not even through my warmup when Wells bursts into the gym.

“Where the fuck is your phone?” Wells snaps at me and I jerk my head at his tone. His eyes are wide and panicked. Something has to be seriously fucking wrong for him to talk to me like that. I know my friend—and I’ve never seen him like this.

“What’s wrong? I left it in my suite until my run is done. What’s going on?” I hit the emergency stop on the treadmill and walk over to my friend who is tapping away at his phone. He thrusts the screen in my face as I read the red banner headline on The Spill’s website.

Developing Story … Roman Cash’s Vehicle Involved in High-Speed Crash

My blood turns cold as I look back at my panicked friend. “Who was in the accident?” My voice comes out harsher than I intended. Wells tears up and I don’t need him to answer. “I need my phone.” I rush out of the gym and run full speed down the hall to my suite with Wells on my heels.

“I’ve tried calling Tinsley and her phone goes straight to voicemail. I can’t reach Fiona. I can’t reach Thor.” Wells is spiraling.

“When does the article say this happened?”

“Twenty-five minutes ago.” Wells tries to clear his throat as I attempt to reach someone in New York. “There’s a photo of his Ferrari, and Jack, it’s … it’s fucking destroyed.”

“Don’t go there. We don’t know who was driving that car, if it even was his car, and we sure as hell don’t know that Tinsley was in the vehicle with him. She hates him; why would she get in that asshole’s car?” Please let that be true. I can’t fathom a future without Tinsley in it. My phone finally rings and Thor’s name lights up my screen.

“Tell me she’s okay, Thor,” I bark as I put it on speaker.

“Mr. Callahan, I … I did everything I could. That punk was going way too fast and driving erratically all over the road while already speeding—it all happened so fast.”

“Thor, it’s Wells. Tell me what happened.”

“I stayed close during the entire evening, Mr. Sinclair. They were supposed to go from the Grammys to an after-party that was close to the event, but Roman turned the opposite direction and merged onto the interstate. He continued to accelerate, and my team stayed with him, but the car veered off the road and collided with a concrete barrier. We were first on the scene. One of my team members called 9-1-1 as I assessed the vehicle.”

“Thor, I appreciate the play-by-play but I need to know if Tinsley is alive.”

“She’s alive, sir, but it’s bad. She was in the front seat wearing her seatbelt, so that paired with the deployed airbags likely saved her life. Miss Skye was in the backseat but did not appear to have her seatbelt on.”

Wells interrupts, “Why was Fiona in the car with them?”

“I’m not sure of those details, but I got the impression before they left that Miss Skye did not want Miss Sinclair to ride alone with … him.”